


Get Me Out Of Sherwood Ohio

by underneath_this_skin_is_a_human



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Anal Sex, Best Friends, Blackmail, Blow Jobs, Emotionally Repressed, First Time Blow Jobs, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, M/M, Past Abuse, Public Blow Jobs, References to Depression, Secret Relationship, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 21:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15179579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underneath_this_skin_is_a_human/pseuds/underneath_this_skin_is_a_human
Summary: Kurt is the smartest guy on the football team, so he knows even though he's in love with his best friend/quarterback Ram Sweeney, he can't admit it to him or anyone else. As it is, his father already pushes him around and warns him what might happen if he "turns out to be a fruit".Ram knows better than letting people get too curious. Before they can see the real him, he pushes them away by being an asshole. He wants his best friend, but the first and only time they kissed his mother packed her bags and left. He can't risk it again.





	1. Fight For Me

The cafeteria was humming with conversation. Half-listening to his friend chatter, Kurt tuned the rest of his concentration in to listening. There was a new kid, they said. A guy that went by JD, dressed like some guy from an action movie in his long trench coat, who was apparently quoting shitty poetry to the newly geek-turned-babe Veronica.  


Kurt searched the room till his eyes settled on the source of the gossip. Tall, obviously toned underneath all his layers of clothing, good hair, and that smirk.  


He wanted to punch that mouth. Or kiss it.  


"Who does that guy in the jacket think he is anyway?" Kurt said, pointing in JD's direction and purposely knocking into Ram's arm, just for a reason to touch him.  


Ram rolled his eyes. "Veronica's into his act, no doubt." As the honorary top rung so-called alpha males of Westerberg High, they had duties. If a girl was getting attention, being called hot, they had to seem interested. They had to mark their territory to keep up appearances.  


Kurt began to stand. "Let's kick his ass."  


He loved fights. It hadn't always been that way. Back before he joined the team he stayed out of them. But keeping his role as one of the top dogs required back up sometimes. Walk the walk.  


And through fighting he had realized that he enjoyed it for two reasons. One: that he could finally show dominance for once in his life, instead of being kicked down and called out by his father. Two: he got to let off steam. Constantly holding tension inside of him made his stomach cramp up. When he fought he could touch whoever he wanted without being judged.   


"We're seniors, man." Ram put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "We're too old for that shit."  


Ram not wanting to fight? Shifts were going on through the atmosphere of Westerberg and Kurt didn't want to stick around and ride them out. He wanted to stop it before anything disastrous happened.  


Pushing out of Ram's grasp, Kurt went over to the corner where the new kid sat, reading a book thicker than his hand. He knocked it off the table and waited for the explosion.  


Nothing.  


With the calmest expression on his face, JD stood, picked up his book, and started walking away. Kurt cut him off, getting into his face. There was a scent of cherry on his breath.  


Kurt put an arm around the new kids shoulder and put on a mocking lisping tone. "Hey, sweetheart." He heard encouraging laughter. "What's your boyfriend say when you told him you were moving to Sherwood Ohio?"  


Still no reaction.  


The rest of the cafeteria had caught on now and were watching with close eyes. He needed to try harder.  


Ram joined in. He pushed in on the other side. "My buddy Kurt here just asked you a question."  


Whispers were starting. There was a feeling that Kurt had, that everyone was watching him, making sure he stayed in line. That was always there. But this was different and new. He felt his classmates sizing him up and deeming him unworthy. His face burned.   


"Hey, Ram." They met eyes. "Doesn't this cafeteria have a no fags allowed rule?"  


Ram couldn't help it. A piece of shame inside of him caused him to wince at the word. But still he said, "Sure does."  


A smile flooded JD face, that same knowing smirk. He glanced back and forth between the two friends faces. He seemed amused. "They seem to have an open door policy for assholes, though."  


Finally. Something shifted into place. "Hold his arms," he told Ram.  


Ram reached out, got a hold on both of JD's arms and kept him in place. The boys smiled across the way, feeling triumphant. The issue, really, was that they had been too cocky. In all their other fights they had known the other kids, knew they were stronger. But they hadn't realized they were matched in the new kid.  


He kicked out, knocking his boot into Kurt's gut and using Ram's surprise as a tool, twisted out of his hold. JD then shoved Ram away. When Kurt advanced, thinking he could catch him off guard, JD impressed them again by catching the football player by his letterman jacket.  


Kurt saw it all in slow motion. Those hands on his collar. Everyone watching. That face coming towards his. Was the guy trying to kiss him?  


Their foreheads slammed together and he was tossed like a ragdoll.  


Shifts were going on through the atmosphere of Westerberg and Kurt had no choice but to stick around and ride them out.


	2. Big Fun

As if they hadn't already proved how vomit inducing and uncool they were, Paul Kelly and Bill Sweeney had donned their cliché ugly fishing gear, and gathered their sons for a lecture.  


"Okay, Ram. Have fun tonight, but I expect you to act your age. The Henshaws have the number to the cabin. If they call to complain I'm going to come back here and knock the sand out of your vagina."  


Ram rolled his eyes so that his friend could see. "Dude. What am I? Five?"  


He'd already gotten shit from his father about the fight with the new kid. Not because there was a fight, but because he lost. Before Kurt had shown up there'd been a speech detailing what a pussy Ram was. It was still on repeat in his head.  


"I'm your dad, not your dude," Bill said, ignoring the obvious eye roll.  


"That goes double for you, Kurt." Paul jabbed his gear in his sons' direction. "You're a guest in Bill's house. You'll treat it with respect."  


Kurt wasn't about to let his dad make him look like a pussy, especially not in front of Ram. He loaded extra attitude into his voice. "Sure thing. 'Dude'."  


"Grab his arms."  


Following orders, Bill Sweeney went behind Kurt and seized his arms, holding him in place. Kurt wasn't surprised. His dad pulled shit like that all the time, kicking at him, pretending to be playful, really warning of what would happen if his son really turned out to be a fairy. But it had never happened in front of Ram before.  


If only they all knew.  


He struggled. "What are you doing?" Paul began jabbing his son in the stomach with the fishing rod. It stung. "Okay. Okay. It's funny. I get it."  


"Who's a sissy?"  


"I'm not a sissy," Kurt grumbled defiantly. He couldn't - wouldn't - let Ram see him like this.  


His father put on a falsetto, teasing him, poking harder. The expression on his face was purely sadistic. "Who's gonna wear a pretty dress?"  


Bill's grip on his arms tightened. Kurt wondered how much more he could take. He glanced at Ram who was watching the exchange closely. Was he egging Kurt on, hoping he wouldn't give up, or was he judging? Did he, like their fathers', expect there was something wrong with Kurt? The word fairy rang in his ears.  


"Fine." He saw Ram glance away and he hung his head, shame burning sour in his stomach. "I'm a sissy. I'm a big fat sissy."  


"Damn right you are." His father stopped the abuse and Bill let him go. They shared a look and gathered their things. "Have fun at your party, son." Their fathers left and didn't look back. Ram kicked the door shut.  


Kurt didn't know what to say. "Man, that sucked."  


It didn't take long for Ram's face to rearrange to something brighter, happier. But it struck a chord in Kurt. Hiding his emotions was a skill he'd had to perfect over the years - at home, in the locker room, during games. What would Ram have to hide, though? Maybe his father did the same to him. Maybe he felt the same way.  


His face fading back into normal insensitivity, Ram said, "Dude, who cares?" He went around to the liquor cabinet, which was left - luckily and ignorantly - unlocked. Grabbing a bottle, he went over to Kurt and bumped into him playfully. "Know what I'm thinking?"  


"What?" His hearted stuttered.  


Ram grinned stupidly, adorably. "The parents are gone. I got my party slippers on."  


"Yeah, man."  


"I mean, 'act our age'? What else does he expect us to do?"

...

Even without the presence of the Heathers and newly made over Veronica, the party was going strong. In fact, there was a hum of excitement after their shit show of a fight and Ram was suggesting that everybody should get naked in the pool. Did that boy know what he was doing? Of course not. He wouldn't want a homo seeing him naked, much less getting in his pool.  


"You comin', man?" he asked Kurt, waving a bottle at him.  


He didn't spend time thinking on it. Not a second. Too eager, Kurt replied, "Yeah" and followed the alcohol - Ram really - in a way that made him seem like he was entranced by the Pied Piper.  


They stripped down - Kurt and a group of semi popular girls and football players that Ram had rounded up. The girls wouldn't commit to going completely naked, so everyone swam in their underwear.  


When anyone made a comment Ram didn't like he would reach out a wet hand around their ankle and drag them into the pool fully clothed.

...

Sherwood Ohio was the worst place to be a gay quarterback.  


That night, Ram's house was the best place to be a irresponsible, drunk, rude teenager that could stare at his mostly naked best friend without fear of being caught because, fuck, he could just say he was checking out the chick next to him.  


He and Kurt were naked around each other all the time. Ram was half certain that was the reason his friend had joined the football team in the first place - well, he could just be projecting his own screwed up, perverted fantasies onto Kurt - that and the need they had to constantly one up each other.  


The main difference between them was that Ram never allowed himself to stare. He was so much better at hiding than Kurt, who he always caught looking away at exactly the right time.  


Always.  


Kurt took a cautious sip from the bottle and handed it off. That was his issue, Ram thought, he never went totally balls deep into anything - ha! Ram might be a huge asshole, but at least he was committed. You could catch him at any given time showing remorse for something he'd said or done. What a pussy. It was so much better to fully dive in, to tell the world to fuck off.  


He threw back the alcohol - dive in! - and sprayed it from his mouth to drench the rest of the pool. The girls shrieked. The guys couldn't give a shit.  


"Okay, man," He said to Kurt. "Pick a babe. We're going upstairs to continue the party. VIP style." Ram snapped his fingers at a girl - tan, brown hair, looked a little like Kurt actually. "Hey. Heading up." It wasn't a question.  


"But..." She blinked her doe eyes up at him. "I thought you were with Heather?"  


"I'm 'with' whoever I want to be with," he answered in a forced mocking voice. A blatant lie. But no one noticed because the truth was doused with rudeness.  


They climbed, soaking, out of the pool. Ram didn't let himself look at the state of his friends' wet underwear.  


Living up to their asshole reputations, as they walked through the house they shook off their wet hair and hugged anyone who protested. Kurt tried very hard not to look at Ram's butt and failed.  


As they made their way upstairs, Ram could hear Kurt murmur, "His parents have a water bed."  


The girl giggled in response.  


He had to have known Ram would hear him, otherwise he wouldn't have mentioned it. Because that water bed was a major part of their history.

By age eleven, Ram had already kissed nine girls, all of which he regretted and cared nothing about. By age twelve, Kurt hadn't kissed anyone, especially not anyone he cared about.  


In fact, he asked Ram for help understanding why he hadn't kissed anyone yet.  


So, despite his understanding of the words passed around school - homo, queer, fairy - Ram took Kurt upstairs to his parents bedroom. His mom was out and his dad was in the basement watching what he could only guess was a show about fishing. There was a scared, excited, sick feeling in his stomach, the same feeling he got before he kissed anyone.  


With words only, Ram tried to explain how to French kiss, failing miserably and most likely on purpose.  


Tilting his head, Kurt said, "I don't get it. You, what? Lick the person's lips?"  


Whether or not he was acting or just being plain stupid, Ram didn't know at the time. But he did know how to kiss. He'd seen it in movies he would sneak late at night in the basement.  


And he finally realized what was wrong with all those other kisses.  


The first being that Ram had never let someone else take the lead. Kurt put his hand on Ram's cheek, more in the know that he'd let on, and adjusted their heads so that they could - a little awkwardly - smash their lips together.  


The second being that the other kisses had been with girls.  


Ram's mom hadn't screamed, hadn't thrown them apart, or sent Kurt home. And that was almost worse, her silent resignation as she closed the door.  


He had been the one to banish Kurt. No explanation, just a destroyed "get out" to match the destroyed feeling in his gut that everything was over and the destroyed expression on Kurt's face as he ran from the room.  


Of course, they still ate lunch together the next day at school, like nothing had happened.  


That day, though, was the last day that Ram would ever eat lunch with his mom. She left at night, carrying one over packed suitcase.  


The only thing he heard her say was to his father: "He's just like you."  


Bill had been just fine, though. As he said: "There are plenty fish in the lake" - because Sherwood was not a sea, but a lake full of ugly trout that weren't Ram's mother. And there were plenty. He gotten remarried in less than six months.  


They kept the water bed. Ram didn't know why.  


Incidentally, that was the same year that Ram realized it was more simple being pigeonholed as an asshole rather than looked at funny, because come on, this was Sherwood fucking Ohio.

...

Maybe Kurt had mentioned the water bed on purpose, taking a page from Ram's book. He was learning, finally, to use the meanest memories to make the deepest wounds. Funny thing was that he was hurting himself too.  


"That's right," Ram said, pumping himself up with pride.  


It was weird to be in that bedroom after what had gone on so many years ago.  


Weird to be in any room practically alone with Ram. They were never alone. There were kids at school, the guys at practice, classmates at parties, their dads' at the houses.  


Everything looked the same. There hadn't ever been much proof of the ex Mrs. Sweeney, even before she had left. Bill's shoes were still lined up by the wall. Still that ugly fishing themed lamp on the dresser.  


That water bed. Kurt stared at it.  


...

Ram didn't waste any time. He jumped onto the water bed and pulled his girl along with him. She laughed as she crashed into him. The waves knocked them around. They kissed, adding to the long list of kisses he regretted and cared nothing about. Then her hand began rubbing busy circles on the fabric of his underwear.  


He lie back, eyeing his friend with a challenge. Up, at Kurt's hair that was slicked back with water, his full lips, at the definition in his chest, his hips, and down to where his bulge was growing. It was obvious underneath the thin material of his boxers.  


A moan escaped his mouth, less for the hand and more for seeing how excited Kurt was.  


"Well," he rasped out. "You guys joining us?"  


The other girl looked nervously at Kurt and squeaked out, "I mean...It's weird, isn't it?"  


Knocking the hand away, Ram sat up. "What's weird about it?" His tone was more defensive than he wanted it to be.  


"Two girls, two guys...that's kinda' gay."  


His mind was running double time trying to come up with an excuse that made sense. It popped into existence, his lie. "You mean you've never been to Hollywood? 'Cause this is, like, the only way they do it there."  


"Hollywood?"  


Kurt picked up immediately. "Yeah. My cousin went there over the summer." Words rushed out of his mouth a little too quickly. "He's friends with this director, so he was invited to this huge party where they all, like brought dates, but everyone just went to the bedroom and just got in these groups of people and just, you know, fucked."  


She didn't believe them. Ram could tell by the narrowing of her eyes.  


His girl - yeah, he remembered now, Ashley from the squad - had the opposite outlook. "Really?" she asked, a large white smile taking up her face.  


"Totally."  


"I'm out," the other girl told them, shaking her head and taking careful steps out of the room. Ram called "good riddance" after her.  


...

Then he handed Kurt a bottle and ordered, "Come on." It was the confidence that Ram held in his broad shoulders, that he pushed into those two words that had Kurt chugging. But alcohol didn't have half the effect that those blue eyes had on him.  


Dizzy, seasick, he sat down on the bed.  


Ram fell onto his side, causing a wave. Ashley followed. Kurt watched Ram undo her bra and toss it aside. Their kiss was hard, mostly on his part. "Ow" she said, but laughed. He didn't apologize.  


Leaving seemed like a good idea. Kurt should've left after his date declined. Should've left before he was invited into the pool. Should've left as soon as the Heathers did. Should've left so that his asshole of a father couldn't abuse him in public. Hell, he should've switched schools during 6th grade so he wouldn't have to see Ram's goddamn smug face as he knew his friend's dirty secret but couldn't or wouldn't do anything about it because they lived in a small town hellhole - fuck, he could admit it, Ram just had way too much control over him.  


He cleared his throat.  


The couple looked up at him.  


"So. Am I just supposed to...?" He threw his hands into the air. "I don't know. Am I supposed to just, like, watch?"  


Ram rolled his eyes, grabbing onto Kurt's wrist. "Don't be stupid."  


He pulled him over and into a position where they were both on either side of Ashley.  


...

While Ram locked lips with Ashley he kept ahold of Kurt's wrist, feeling his pulse race. At first, he thought Kurt was pulling away. Maybe he had changed his mind or Ram had read the signals wrong and his best friend wasn't queer. But it turned out that Kurt was sliding his hand to fit in the palm of his, interlacing fingers. They held hands.  


Though it was slightly muffled by the music downstairs, there was an audible noise from outside. A loud crack. Screams followed.  


Ashley jumped. "Geez. Sorry, guys, but I'm out."  


...

Though he wouldn't ever admit it, Kurt was relieved. He waved goodbye to her, just for good measure.  


The boys burst from the bed to look out the window.  


Mr. Henshaw, the Sweeney's next door neighbor had his gun at his hip. While everyone was scattering he was shaking his meaty fist and yelling something.  


Ram opened the window. "What's up, Henshaw?"  


Kurt recognized this smile. The hundred watt smile Ram used when he wanted to take a girl to bed or a teacher to ignore a missed homework assignment.  


"Sweeney," the man grumbled from underneath his moustache. "I knew this would happen. I told Bill, but did he listen?" He shook his head. "No. He told me to call. Told me to watch your delinquent ass-"  


"My ass?" Ram laughed, loud and boisterous. "That's a little inappropriate, don't ya' think? But, I mean, if you want..."  


All it took was one look - that mischievous gleam in those blue eyes - and Kurt knew exactly what Ram was planning. Both of the boys turned their backs to the window, bent over to give Mr. Henshaw a full view, and pulled down their underwear.  


"Why, if I-" The gun was cocked.  


Not wanting to get shot in the ass, the friends threw themselves on the floor.  


Down there, they turn over to lay flat on their backs. Laughter fogged up their eyes. Sightless, Kurt reached out - like he'd always done - and found Ram reaching out too. And since they were alone for the first time in years, no one flinched.  


Their vomit inducing, uncool fathers would be back at the end of the weekend and there would be hell to pay.  


But there in the moment, it was almost worth it.


	3. Blue

It didn't feel real, honestly, Heather being dead.  


In high school there were rules. You fought and scrambled and fucked your way to the top, or you got stepped on. When you were at the top, you were invincible. As long as they stayed in shape, the cheerleaders were invincible. When you were given a letterman jacket for the football team, you were invincible. The Heathers were invincible.  


But Heather Chandler was dead. At the age of seventeen, had woken up one morning - done, finished, fucking fed up - wrote a note and said goodbye to the world with a mug of drain cleaner.  


It shook Ram down to his bones.  


How could someone go from the queen of Westerberg High to the grave? She'd been perfect, held her head up high, the ruler. And still, something had gotten to her. A crack in the shell.   


Ram had never been perfect. His dad hated him and his mother had run away so she didn't have to face the fact her son was a fruit that wanted to have sex with his best friend. There were so many cracks in him that he didn't know how he was still together. If Heather had given up, how was he supposed to be able to hold on?  


Everyone still talked about Heather, rumors from so-called friends and pathetic cries from enemies, but they did it to gain face.  


Kurt and Ram had only said anything about her once. Right after the news, they'd made a stupid sex comment. People would expect them to. But, out of the corner of his eye, he'd seen Kurt flinch. If there was anyone that understood Ram's guilt-ridden secret panic, it was his best friend.  


The most important thing was keeping up appearances.  


If only, Ram thought, the acting ended with the last school bell. But there were fathers, and worse than that, there were the remaining Heathers.  


Heather McNamara was the worst. After a few disgustingly self-conscious make out sessions she and Kurt had - somehow - come to a silent understanding that they were "going together". It made sense. They were both hiding. She was a mousy, scared girl that surrounded herself with giants so no one could get to her. Kurt had become a giant so no one would realize he was still afraid of being crushed.  


It made sense, but that didn't mean Ram had to like it.

...

There was no way Paul Kelly would let his son out on a school night, date with a girl pending or not. And Kurt's mom wasn't any help. The moment the men had started arguing she'd gone upstairs to tend to a bottle of wine.  


He should've expected it, really. His father always answered his questions with "no"s that were really long lists of things Kurt had done wrong. But he'd hoped this time would be different.  


Everything else had been becoming different.  


"You wreck Bill Sweeney's house-"  


Kurt rocked forward onto his toes, bracing for a fight. It was just like school. The adrenaline pumping. "That wasn't just me. W-"  


His father kept spitting words. "You fail that math test, like the idiot you are. Screw up that play. Act like a general jackass. And you"-his finger jabbed into Kurt's chest-"expect me to let you out of this house"-jab-"on a goddamn school night? Not that I would have to worry about you and that McNamara girl. You're too much of a fucking pussy"-jab-"to treat a girl to a good time. Probably because you spend so much time with that pansy of a shit-dick, Ra-"  


Each jab to Kurt's chest stirred something inside him. All of the times he'd had to sit back, be pushed around by his asshole father and say nothing or eat dirt, they flashed in his memory. He snapped.  


A shocked expression colored Paul's face as blood ran out of his nose. The bigger man had barely flinched. Despite all his practice in punishment, Kurt did. When his father's fist connected he scrambled awkwardly to keep on his feet. Stupidly surprised, he stared. His father stared back, unreadable.  


"Kurt-"  


Throwing on his jacket, Kurt swerved past his father and out the door. The night felt cool and wide and hopeless.

...

Ram wasn't about to ask his dad for permission. He'd been a hard ass ever since they'd screwed up the last football game. Well, if you asked Bill, it had been Ram's fault. "Football players can't be prancing around like fairies" he would say.  


In the corner of the kitchen Bill was huddled, talking in a quiet nervous tone his son had never heard. "No...No. He's not here, I'm sure."  


Did his dad already expect he had snuck out? He didn't sound that worried about it.  


"You should-I mean, you could come over. Sheila's at her sister's..." Bill ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I just don't want to leave things the way they were. What we said...I miss you." He sighed. "I want you."  


That was it, Ram realized, his father was making sure no one was in the house because he was fucking some other woman.  


Had Bill been cheating on Ram's mother too? Is that why she really left?  


While his father was still muttering into the phone, Ram tiptoed out the door.

...

Kurt ran.  


If life was perfect, he'd be able to run to get comfort from the person he wanted the most.  


No. If life was perfect, he'd already be there. He would be in Ram's arms and he wouldn't have to worry about how what he was doing was wrong or what people would do if they found out. He wouldn't have to run. He wouldn't have to fight anymore.  


He ran to Heather's driveway, where she was waiting for Duke to pick her up, clutching her arms tight and rocking on her toes.  


"Heather-" She winced. "Oh. Kurt. Hi. I just..." Her doe eyes widened. "What happened?"  


Carefully, he prodded his cheek with his fingers. It stung now that the adrenaline had worn off. None of the high and all of the hurt.  


"My dad..." He trailed off.  


Heather hurled her body at his, wrapping him in a weak hug. He'd never realized how small she was - her head didn't even reach his shoulder. Or how caring she was. If there was any girl he had to be with, Kurt thought, he was glad it was her.

...

Equally competitive, Duke and Ram made the trip to the convenience store a contest. They had a bet to see who could score more drinks without spending a cent. "No spending daddy's credit card," Ram warned. Kurt was meant to be the getaway driver, McNamara the judge.  


Everyone got in their places.  


Kurt climbed into the front seat of Duke's Jeep, letting the gentler Heather hold his hand.  


Duke went to the clerk immediately. She bent over the counter in her short skirt and made a pouty face at the sleazy looking mustached older guy.  


Unlucky for her, Ram was almost certain the guy was a fruit. His name was Carl or Kevin or something like that. He'd been two years ahead of them in school. But he'd never had a girlfriend, or at least, not one anyone had seen or heard of.  


Something prickled in Ram. It wasn't seeing the guy himself, it was more of a dreadful premonition. That once he graduated, Ram would still be living with his dad and still in the closet, still be acting like he wanted pick up on girls but they were older and less shiny, and he was working at the goddamn 7 Eleven and he wanted to die.  


Through the neon lit window he could see Kurt gesturing for him to hurry up.  


While Heather distracted the clerk with her hot mess act, Ram tucked a smaller bottle of alcohol in the waistband of his jeans and two larger bottles under his jacket.  


As he strode triumphantly out of the store he heard Heather say, "Well, whatever. I mean, we already have what we need." She pushed Ram out the door. They ran to the Jeep, laughing, and drove off, whooping into the breeze that ruffled their hair.  


Ram felt invincible.

...

They started off with the small bottle, passing it around.  


Eventually McNamara leaned over and very quickly, very quietly pressed her lips to Kurt's.  


Ram tried not to watch. He cleared his throat. The kissing didn't stop but became more vigorous. They looked like they were going to eat each other's faces off. So this is what Kurt had to put up with all the time. Huh. Jealousy simmered in his stomach.  


Assuming Heather would follow, he exited the Jeep. She got out and came around to his side.  


He nodded. "Duke."  


"Sweeney," she smirked back.  


They shared a drink.  


"That was a good one," she admitted, the feeling of losing well hidden from her expression. "What you pulled back there."  


The smile he gave was the same he'd been practicing for years - world conquering. Acting, stealing, being an all around asshole, those were his specialties. Things that made him safe. He didn't need to be told he was good.  


"I won. What's my prize?"  


Despite himself, he glanced at the Jeep. McNamara had taken off Kurt's jacket. Duke followed his line of sight. "They're like bunny rabbits, aren't they?" she sneered.  


Ram ignored it. "Walk with me?"

...

A disgusting sense of fear traveled through Kurt's body to land in his toes, buzzing. Where was Ram? Probably out in the woods, ass hanging out, sticking his dick in Heather-fucking-Duke with her pouted red lips and her overinflated tits.  


The mental image sent an unexpected jolt of excitement to his lower half.  


Not the best time to being thinking of Ram. In the weeks after their house party Kurt would go back in his mind - at night, pressing his head into the pillow to keep quiet - and change the events. After Ashley left, Kurt would pull Ram over to him, fast so they didn't have a chance to change their minds, and yank down his friends' underwear-  


"Kurt?" Underneath him, Heather's eyes were wide, panicked.  


Unsure of what to do, he kissed her.  


Heather smacked her hands into his chest. "Mm." She pushed him away. "Kurt. Geez. Stop it already!"  


Startled, he sat up, smacking his head. "Fucking shit-fuck."  


"I just, I'm-" She sat up and smoothed out her skirt. There was a trapped look in her eyes. Had something happened to her before? Had someone not stopped? "What's wrong with you?" Her petite hand whipped across Kurt's bruised face.  


He'd just wanted relief. He'd just wanted to feel like a normal person for once.  


Not wanting to lash out, he grabbed the bottle and exited the car. He should...should look for Ram, yeah.  


But before he could get anywhere, he collapsed. His head was spinning.  


Voices swam. Female. "Is Kurt okay?" Not Heather. Someone else, more harsh. The rest of the conversation was lost on him. Distantly, he heard, "I'm leaving now" and peeked open his eyes, lifting his head a little. It was...He squinted. It was Veronica Sawyer.  


Using the hood of the Jeep to pull himself to his feet, Kurt called out, slurring, "Hey, Veronicaaah."  


Well. He'd already made a goddamn fool of himself. Why not make it worse? He still had a boner from grinding on Heather, and he was drunk enough for anything - at least he thought so - so why not Veronica?  


Trying not to stumble over his own feet, he shambled closer and gave what he thought was a winning smile.

...

It was a younger, more hungover Ram that had figured out why it was called "bum wine". One: it was dirt cheap. Two: it tasted like shit, not literally, Jesus. Three: it fucked you hard. If you ever wanted to forget something or have an excellent excuse for making a stupid mistake - there you go. He and bum wine shook hands like good old friends these days.  


And it paired well with the taste of Heather Duke's mouth.  


She was the lesser of two evils. Yeah, he had to get drunk to get with her, but it made him numb. Not like jerking off into his hand, thinking of Kurt or some actor in a shitty movie he had seen. That always ripped him to shreds.  


But at least his goddamn hand would let him finish.  


Heather Duke had been grabbing on him and the moment Ram got a hard-on she scoffed and starting pulling herself together. "Nice try."  


Blinking away the haze, offended, Ram zipped his jeans. "Really Duke?"  


"Really Sweeney."  


The whole walk she had been leaning on him, feigning drunkenness and whispering dirty words. She had put the moves on him. And now she was leading the way out of the tree line back to the Jeep.  


He followed. "That's fucking harsh."   


Heather hurried faster, buttoning the last button on her shirt. She raised her voice when they reached the clearing, putting on a show. "Goddamn it, Ram. I said I'm done. Sober up, you idiot." She knocked on the Jeep's window. "Heather, unlock the door."  


"That was a bitch move, Duke." For once, inebriated, he could speak at least a little of what was on his mind. "I need some relief..." Ram took in the scene. Both of the Heathers locked in the car, and Kurt was leaning on the hood and trying his hand at flirting with - was that Veronica Sawyer?  


At the same time that the jealousy set in, an idea formulated in his mind.  


"Well. Hey, Veronica."  


She rolled her eyes, but subtly. Even with her sudden rise to popularity this was a girl that was used to blending in. "Ugh. You got a left hand? Use it."  


"Don't talk mean like that," Kurt whined.  


Ram chimed in, "You'll hurt their feelings." Eyes briefly, grins were shared.  


Veronica raised her eyebrows. "Their?"  


Just like earlier, it became a competition. The boys threw euphemisms back and forth, raunchy jokes about their balls, seemingly trying to win the attention of a certain Veronica Sawyer.  


But Kurt wasn't sure that was the point anymore. Their advances were a bit too ridiculous to get good results. And he didn't really want to sleep with her, despite the pain in his lower region. It was great to be bumping into and joking with his best friend.  


...  
The window of the Jeep rolled down. "Hey, jackasses!" It was Duke. She leaned her head out, a mean pout on her face. "I dropped my freaking swatch."  


"So?" Ram frowned.  


"So, my father paid a shit ton for it, and you're going to go get it for me."  


He took a swig. "Why should I?"  


"Because you made me lose it when you were drunkenly slobbering on me back there. You were probably too worried about your dick getting out to notice that you knocked it off."  


Kurt shot him a hurt look.  


"Shit." Ram cut a look between the two of them. He needed to get out of this situation before he dug the hole any deeper. "Fine." He gestured to Kurt, a little guilty. "C'mon." Even if he felt bad, he wasn't about to let his guard down in front of everyone else.  


...  
For a while, they walked in silence. The night air was sobering to Kurt, especially without his jacket on.  


Ram cleared his throat. "Heather's a bitch."  


"Duke?"  


"Yeah."  


Kurt remembered the way she'd been, lording it over Ram that she wouldn't have sex with him - lording it over Kurt that she could have sex with him if she wanted to. "Total bitch," he agreed.  


"I mean..." Ram shot an anxious look at his friend out the corner of his eye. "I don't get why anyone would be like that. Why tell someone you want them to fuck you and then hold it over their head that you won't..." It was a stupid thought. He shouldn't say it, but he wanted to. "Guys aren't like that, you know? We always want it. We-"  


It was his shoelaces or a branch that tripped Kurt, it had to be. The mere aspect of his best friend discussing sex couldn't have done that to him. They talked about it all the time.  


Well, with an audience.  


As a reflex, Ram caught his arm and helped him to his feet. That was when he noticed it - the bruise on Kurt's face. A splotch of nasty blue and purple. Before he could stop himself his hand reached out to touch it, to cradle Kurt's cheekbone.  


They were starting to realize just how alone they were.  


Kurt was tired. He was tired of hiding and of making a fool out of himself and having his heart broken and all the late night fantasies.  


Somehow it was natural to stretch up so they were the same height.  


It was different than it'd been before. Kurt had years of kissing under his belt. But the feeling was the same, the warm rollercoaster of happiness. Ram could shove him away. Even then he wouldn't care. One kiss could be enough.  


They didn't stop. Ram didn't shove him away, instead let him take charge.  


Hunger was what made Kurt go on. He'd been starving. He was inside of the man he'd wanted for so long, even if it was just their tongues dancing.  


His hands slid down from Ram's shoulders, down to his ass where he gripped tightly. There was a jolt of surprise from the other boy. Surprise. But still, they kept on. In response, Ram put his hips forward to that they pressed on Kurt's. There was equal hardness there. They grinded, letting out small whimpers.  


It inspired something new.  


Always in their relationship Ram had been the leader. He was taller, blonde, outgoing, ruder. The leader. But here, Kurt wasn't going for it, he was going to put the quarterback in his place. Apparently, he didn't mind the idea. When Kurt pushed him forward, he undid his jeans and pulled them down, anticipatory, and placed his hands on the tree in front of him for a hand hold.  


Behind him, Kurt snaked his hands down into the soft cotton briefs. What met him was surprising. He'd thought it would be a lot like holding his own dick. But it was such a different experience to feel the warmth of another man, to feel him grow.  


While Kurt stroked in even motions - up, down, up - Ram grinded his backside into the hardness already there.  


It didn't take long to finish Ram off.   


He spun to watch Kurt clean his sticky fingers off. The way they entered his mouth, it motivated Ram's imagination.  


"Let me-" He mumbled, suddenly unsure.  


Kurt grabbed him by the hips. "Speak up." What had just happened between them had changed him. His mahogany eyes were glinting, his confidence flowing outwardly. He'd never been more attractive.  


He raised his voice. "Let me do something for you."  


Still a small bit of shyness showing through, Kurt nodded in agreement. He didn't trust that his voice would work.  


So many times Ram had let girls do this to him, so many times he'd seen it in dirty movies, but he'd never done it himself, and so his hands shook when he fumbled with Kurt's belt.  


To steady himself he pressed quick kisses to Kurt's tanned neck. It helped when he heard his breathing hurry, gave him the confidence to let his hand wander under that white t-shirt that he liked the snug fit of a little too much, gave him the confidence to take one of those sun kissed nipples between his fingers and twist.  


Kurt's hands latched onto Ram's tight backside again. His hands fit perfect there.  


Ram sank to his knees on the forest floor. It was an unfamiliar position. His knees felt stiff, but it was enough of a reward to hear the gasp as he slipped Kurt's dick out.  


"You've been waiting to do this for a long time, haven't you?" He laughed, but not in a mean way. A giddy laugh. "And to think, I was always worried you were the straight one. Man, was I wrong."  


He didn't want to think about if he was gay or straight right then. He wanted to make it so Kurt couldn't manage say real words anymore. He wanted to have that much of an effect on him.  


There had always been something appealing about Kurt's body to him. Those sharp hips. The lean muscles of his stomach. That almond color. But Ram hadn't ever known how much he wanted to be able to hold this part of Kurt's in his hands. It was with adoration that he kissed the tip. Complete adoration of this silky, beautiful rod of skin.  


He wanted this so badly.  


Wanting to understand the taste, he ran his tongue along the curve, up and down.  


Kurt was silent, holding his breath, waiting for what might happen next. His desire was pooling in his abdomen.  


Ram opened his mouth around the tip. Then a bit further. The sensation was new, hard to get used to. For a short while he couldn't get much of Kurt inside of him. Each time he strived to get a little more.  


"I don't want to hurt you," Kurt murmured, breathless. "You're doing good. But I want to help. Can I?"  


He gave as much of a nod as he could.  


Kurt placed his hand in Ram's, intertwining his fingers with the soft golden hair. Slowly and gently, he guided the motion so that he was going deeper into Ram's wet mouth. He tried to keep it slow, but when Ram added flair to the action, twirling his tongue, Kurt jutted his hips. He began moving faster, deeper. The tip hit the back of Ram's throat. Everything was glowing, hot, soaring.  


"I love you." It was a whisper, but Ram still heard it.  


He swallowed everything Kurt gave him.  


"What the hell is taking you assholes so long?" A familiar voice. It was the most terrible noise they had ever heard. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"


	4. Blue (Reprise)

Heather Duke's words still rang in Ram's ears.  


"I'll just have to be telling all of Westerberg High that their beloved all-American heroes are really cocksuckers, huh? That is..." She tapped her chin, pretending to think. "Unless you'd like to do me a favor." Flashing her bright teeth at Ram, she added, "And no, cupcake, I don't want you to suck my lolly. Don't get me wrong. I'm sure you're talented, but-"  


"What do you want?" The last time he'd felt so low down, so destroyed, was when his mother had left. Because of him. Everything was because of him.  


"I wouldn't use that tone with me if I were in your fragile position."  


There was no other choice. Ram couldn't let her tell anyone, not after all the hard work, the years of acting and lying. He asked Heather, "What do you want?"  


"First off, my goddamn swatch. But I should give up on that one, shouldn't I? I mean, it's not like you two were ever looking for it. Unless you thought it was in Ram's mouth." The expression on her face was purely feline. "Second, I want you two to help me take Sawyer down. That bitch isn't going to be the next Heather Chandler."  


Ram glanced over at Kurt, who looked down at his shoes before their eyes could meet. If he didn't know better, if they weren't best friends, he wouldn't have been able to notice what had changed. Kurt's jaw was clenched, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. A vein pulsed in his neck.  


How had the night escalated so quickly from a complete daydream to his worst nightmare?  


Duke stared down the both of them. "So, what's it going to be? Stay kings of Westerberg High or be thrown to the lions?"

...

He and Kurt hadn't discussed Heather's plan. In fact, they hadn't talked on the awkward ride home that night or the one to school that morning. She talked. They listened. Ram practically stared at Kurt while he stared out the window.  


And then they spun her webs.  


To whoever was interested - and everyone was, because after Heather Chandler's death there had been a lull in juicy gossip - the boys related the story of how Veronica Sawyer met them in the woods and went down on both of them. "Quiet girls are always the freaky ones," they would say. And people lapped it up.  


By lunch time, the guilt building up in Kurt became too much. He burst out of the lunchroom and hurried to the only place he knew would be empty - the locker room.  


He let himself slump onto the bench, breathing into his hands.

...

Ram couldn't understand why Kurt was taking this so hard. Yeah, they'd had to lie, but they did that every day at school, at home. He should be used to it. Sucks for Veronica Sawyer, but she was already ruining her reputation by sleeping with that psycho new kid. And the lie had been to help them. It kept them safe.  


But, for some reason, his best friend had completely cut him off.  


He didn't try to sit down. The whole thing felt weird. There had been times when one of them was feeling rough and the other had known, but they'd never been able to do anything about it. They would pretend they didn't acknowledge each other's emotions. That was before last night. Now what was Ram supposed to do? He didn't have experience in comforting people.  


When you were an asshole you didn't have to care.  


Through his fingers, Kurt mumbled, "Just leave."  


Should he? He shuffled his feet.  


"Okay, man." Ram threw his hands in the air. A surrender. "I don't get it. Just tell me what I did wrong, alright?"  


The only time he'd ever seen Kurt move so fast was on the football field. He burst to his feet so abruptly that Ram, although taller than him, was startled and sent backwards into a locker. His voice was bigger than the both of them combined. "Tell you what you did wrong? If you don't already fucking know, you're more of a dickhead than I thought."  


"Is this about me not saying anything back to you last night? 'Cause I didn't know it meant that much to you-"  


Kurt shook his head. "I thought you were a good person. I thought that underneath all that douchebag behavior, all that jock shit, you were someone who knew wrong from right. You were scared, you know? That's what I thought. But after what we did out there-" He pointed to the hallway. "And you don't even care?"  


Relieved, Ram ran a hand through his hair. It wasn't about not saying "I love you" back. This was much easier to handle. "You mean Veronica? She'll be fine-"  


"We ruined her fucking life!" He shut his eyes, gritted his teeth and rung his hands. His next words were whispered. Whispered with the tone of someone who wanted to give up. "You're so afraid to let people know how you feel about me that you're fine with ruining someone's life."  


Ram blurted out his desperate excuse for the lie. "I can't fucking lose my scholarship, man. No one wants a-you know what I mean, right? You get it?"  


"You can't even say it."  


"Say what?"  


Several times they'd gotten injured in front of each other. Sprains, bruises, a concussion, even a broken ankle. But neither one of them had cried. That was why it was so terrible to see the shiny streaks of tears running down Kurt's cheeks.  


Ram didn't know how to comfort, but he still reached out.  


Kurt took a step away. "You can't even say it. You were going to say 'no one wants a homo on their team, right? But you can't even admit you are one."  


"Not like you would."  


Using the heel of his hand, Kurt wiped away the tears. "You sure about that?" The same confidence that had emerged when he'd had Ram down on his knees shined through. "Because we can go out there. Right now. I'll go out there and tell everyone I had my hand around your dick and that I liked it. That you liked it. Didn't you?"  


This new turn of the tables scared the shit out of Ram. He shrugged.  


Anger narrowed Kurt's forest colored eyes. Again, he started backing away. "I can't believe you."  


His best friend was going to leave him. All the other times, Ram had been the one sending him off. Because he knew Kurt would always come back. This time, he wasn't so sure. Would Kurt leave and not come back, like Ram's mother?  


If that happened, there wouldn't be a reason to stay in Sherwood. There wouldn't be a reason not to follow in Heather Chandler's footprints. Kurt had been the only guy he'd kissed, the only guy he'd ever wanted that much. Other people were hot. But he wouldn't ever feel that way about them, like he wanted to devour them.  


As it had been before, it was a reflex, catching Kurt's arm.  


"I did," Ram said. "I did enjoy it." With no other plan in mind, he dropped to his knees on the hard floor. It hurt. Maybe he deserved it. "Let me do it again."  


He unzipped Kurt's jeans. Then glanced up to see the expectant look on Kurt's face. The lust in his hooded brown eyes and the feeling of being controlled made warmth grow in Ram's stomach. Gently, waiting for permission, he placed a kiss on the outside of Kurt's underwear, leaving his mouth there to feel his erection grow.  


"I-" Kurt cleared his throat. He put his hand on Ram's shoulder. After a full minute, he shoved him away. "I can't."  


Zipping his jeans, he headed off and left Ram alone on his knees.

...

Bill Sweeney was on the phone in the kitchen when his son came home. Whatever he'd been saying was cut off by the slamming of the front door. "Hold on a sec," he said, and then to Ram, "Rough day?"  


"Like you give a shit," Ram said, already running up the stairs.  


Upstairs, he went directly for the shower.  


All day after his encounter with Kurt - despite how much it didn't make sense and how many times he told it to stop - he'd had a raging boner. Sucker for punishment, he thought. But no matter how ridiculous it was he had to handle it.  


The spray of water didn't calm his body like he hoped it would. It made him slick instead. Slick so he could run his hand down his chest, then around to his backside, giving a squeeze, and to the front of him, wrapping his hand around his wet cock. Each agonizingly slow stroke he took with thoughts of Kurt's tanned hands.  


It built up. He took it to the edge, but stopped right before he could cum.  


In his head, Ram replayed what Kurt had said to him during the night in the woods. He'd had Kurt's head in his mouth and in that breathless, arousing voice, he told Ram "I love you". He let himself cum.  


Kurt had been right. About both things. Ram knew the difference between wrong and right, but he was too scared to care and that was what made him an asshole.


	5. Our Love Is God

All Kurt could think when he got the call from Veronica was that she had found them out, that she understood and forgave them. She must've. It was the only thing that made sense.  


And it let him breathe for the first time in years. Actually take a breath.

...

The moment Bill Sweeney shouted up the stairs that there was a call, his son was running down, taking two steps at a time.  


Ram ripped the phone out of his hand and pressed it to his ear. He glared in his father's direction distrustfully. "Well..." He put an extra tang of annoyance in his voice. "Some privacy, please?" The please was a bit much, but it did the trick.  


"Veronica Sawyer just called me." Kurt's words tripped over each other. "Like, out of nowhere. She said-she said she wanted to know how we knew that she wanted, like, two guys at once. Which-" He blew out a nervous breath, sending a shiver up Ram's spine. "And she said to bring you to the cemetery to, you know, do it."  


They hadn't talked since the disaster of yesterday. Hearing Kurt's voice sent Ram's heart on a climb from the bottom of his feet straight to his head. He didn't think Kurt would ever forgive him.  


If only he'd heard a single word Kurt said. "What?"  


Kurt repeated his story, slower and more clearly this time around.  


"You told her we'd be there, right?"  


"Of course."

...

It was like they'd been able to press a reset button. None of it, the lies, the hurt, the fights, the shame, none of it mattered. Not when it was just the two of them. Not when Ram's breath was hot against his mouth. Not when their eyes, mahogany and aquamarine, were locked in a heady stare. Not when each other's hands were steadily pumping away.  


Showing that long neck, the bob of his adam's apple, Ram leaned his head back. A deep groan slipped out.  


Even though it ignited something in Kurt, even though he was so close to finishing, he remembered why they were there. They needed to meet with Veronica to sort everything out. She was going to be something good for them. A way they could be together without worrying.  


He pulled away.  


"No," Ram whined. He pressed his warm cheek to Kurt's neck. "No. We can't stop now."  


Kurt shook his head. He wanted to. He wanted to keep going, more than anyone could know. But...He tucked himself back in and zipped his jeans. "If I cum now I won't be able to get it up later."  


"Come on."  


He smirked at the lust filled expression on Ram's face, those red cheeks, mouth open just a little, eyes hooded.  


An idea popped into Kurt's head. "Okay," he said, pressing a kiss to Ram's head. Then, he landed a hard smack on his friends ass and began running. He would be caught. Ram was the quarterback, for fuck's sake. But it always helped to have a head start.  


"Come back here," Ram called.  


They skidded into the clearing. Veronica was leaning against one of the larger gravestones with her legs crossed in front of her.  


"I'll beat your ass," he added.  


The boys stopped and rearranged to the stances they'd taken their whole lives. They squared their shoulders, puffed their chests out, sharpened their jaws. Kurt thought of it as his "alpha male jock douchebag costume"; Ram saw it as his second skin.  


"Hi," Kurt blurted, his eagerness showing through.  


A bit more put together than his friend, but still distracted by his raging boner, Ram said, "Uh, so, do we just like"-he made a demonstrative hand gesture-"whip it out or what?"  


Too excited to stand still, Kurt reached out to punch Ram on the arm, just for an excuse to touch him. He needed a release from his nervousness.  


"Take it slow, Ram." She looked above it all with her hands tucked into her pockets, in control. Almost a Heather. No wonder Duke was so worried. This girl could be the next top bitch. "Strip for me."  


"Slow" wasn't much of a concept for either one of them. It was so much easier when you didn't have to come up with smooth words or do things in a certain way to convince someone to fuck you. With each other, it was one look - "oops, where'd my boxers go?" - and they'd already be there, rearing to go.  


Because Ram was used to eager cheerleaders and Kurt was bright enough to know the difference between Veronica and a cheerleader, he asked her, "What about you?"  


"I was hoping you'd rip my clothes off for me, sport."  


When they were down to their underwear - nowhere to hide now - Veronica told them to close their eyes. After one not-so-subtle glance at each other, they listened.  


The only sound was her voice. "On the count of three. One."  


Kurt felt Ram's arm bump into his.  


"Two."  


A very different voice added, "Three."  


Everything felt into chaos when the shot went off. Kurt's eyes burst open, but his hearing was replaced by ringing. Nothing was right. Ram was on the ground. Ram was...JD was there, in his trenchcoat, but Kurt couldn't recall any of the lust he'd felt towards the boy months ago. Just pure terror. Just his heartbeat. Sweat soaking his skin.  


He ran.  


His name was being called. Ram was calling him. He had to run. He'd never been fast enough. That was why Ram was the quarterback.  


Ram. He couldn't be dead. He was in love with Ram. They'd never gotten to graduate together. They'd never gotten to have full-on sex together. They'd never been able to say "I love you" without being worried about it after. They'd never been able to leave Sherwood. Ram couldn't be dead. They needed to do all those things.  


Did his words even come out as more than a whisper? He tried. He tried to convince JD to stop. If JD stopped, he could get Ram to the hospital. It didn't have to be too late. "Why are you chasing me? I was just kidding about-"  


JD didn't stop chasing him, didn't lower his gun.  


Kurt had to get out. He had to get help. Climbing had never been his strong suit and the metal bit into his fingers, but he latched onto the fence.  


Under his breath, JD was mumbling something to himself. The ringing in Kurt's ears had grown quiet enough to hear, but not to understand. He was saying: "We can start and finish wars. We're what killed the dinosaurs. We're the asteroid that's overdue."  


"Stop being a dick." Antagonizing the guy wouldn't help, but maybe if someone pointed out he was being fucking crazy he would snap out of it.  


JD continued his strange mantra. "The dinosaurs will turn to dust."  


"Please help me." He called out.  


"We die because we say they must."  


No one was coming. Kurt let go of the fence just as JD fired. And he fell.  


No one was coming.  


Ram...


	6. My Dead Gay Son

The cafeteria was full of voices, a rumble, something was happening, something was coming, but Kurt couldn't be bothered. Even though they were surrounded by people and it was risky, he and Ram were sitting shoulder to shoulder, hands on thighs.  


Their mouths didn't have to move. For once, there was nothing to say.  


"Hey, boys."  


She was an angel with her long curls flowing behind her. A queen decked out in her red silk kimono. A giant with her blood red mouth. A top bitch sitting on the edge of their lunch table.  


Heather Chandler.  


The chatter cut out. It occured to Ram, for the first time that day, that there were no other students there, that if there were the two of them would never be able to sit that close, that boxer briefs weren't appropriate school attire.  


Heather touched Ram's golden hair. He shook her off. She moved her hand to rest on Kurt's summer tanned cheek.  


She was as beautiful, movie-star glamorous as she'd ever been. "We have a party to attend."

...

The whole senior class showed up. It was rumored more people had tried to come, but that their father's had manned the door to make sure that the only people at the funeral we're their sons "true friends".  


People that had hated them at school were all of the sudden their best buddies.  


There was no pastor. After everyone found out about the boys being gay - whether or not anyone actually knew it was real - people had shied away from talking directly about Kurt and Ram, unless it was in disgusted whispers. Bill and Paul would be too ashamed to ask anyone to head the ceremony.  


They stood in front of the podium, Kurt and Ram's helmets set up on either side.  


Heather stood behind them. Her eyes scanned the crowd. Her arms were crossed over her chest mightily. Maybe she was remembering her own funeral. Maybe she was remembering every day of high school, being the center of attention.  


As his father stared at his dress shoes, Kurt watched him, waiting to hear what he had to say about his disappointment of a son.  


Ram's mother wasn't there.  


Bill was wearing a suit that his son had only seen him wear once, to Ram's grandmother's funeral. It made him look tired and old.  


"I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say up here." Paul clasped his hands in front of him. "I'm ashamed, of course."  


Kurt felt every punch to the gut his father had ever given him, all at once.  


Sinking, sinking, sinking. Ram let himself sink into a crouch, screaming into his hands. "I am so goddamn tired of not being good enough for them! So fucking tired! We wasted our whole goddamn lives trying to be what they wanted us to be!" He sprung from his crouch, went to his helmet, and swept it off the podium.  


Looking shocked, Paul stopped. He retrieved the helmet slowly, holding it in his hands as if it might bite him.  


He continued. "My family's turned this town into a laughing stock. My Kurt, not that man I thought he was. When I think of the sick, disgusting thing that Kurt and Ram were doing-"  


Bill Sweeney reached out, stopping his friend. "You wait just a minute, Paul." Paul, and the rest of the room's eyes grew wide, surprised and curious. "It is ignorant, hateful talk like yours that makes this world a place our boys would not live in. They were not dirty." He jabbed his finger in the air. "They were not wrong."  


"Our boys were pansies, Bill."  


"Yes." He nodded. "My boy's a homosexual, and that doesn't scare me. I want the world to know I love my dead gay son."  


If there were anyone Kurt would've expected to be giving a speech on tolerance, he would've thought it would be the school guidance counselor, not his best friend's bigoted father. He was almost as bad as Paul. Kurt saw the marks on Ram's skin.  


And yet...  


"Paul, I can't believe that you still refuse to get a clue, after all that we've been through. I'm talking you and me in the summer of 83'."  


Mouths gaped open.  


Paul Kelly's shoulders slumped. He gave in. "That was one hell of a fishing trip."  


It made sense now, Ram thought. His mother telling Bill "He's just like you", and the phone call the night he'd snuck out it'd been Paul calling about Kurt. His father hadn't had sex with another woman. He'd had sex with Paul Kelly.  


Things shifted in Kurt's mind. With all the facts in front of him, he could see the timeline of hurt stretching out for miles. Society had told people it was wrong to be gay. Paul and Bill's families had taught them that their love was wrong, so they had become so scared of themselves they'd taken it out on their sons. Because of their father's influences, Kurt and Ram had made themselves into lies. They hurt other people to seem tough, and most of all, they'd hurt each other.  


He thought about all the things he'd wanted to do with Ram.  


Maybe, because of their deaths, people would become more tolerant and other boys like them would be able to get out together.  


Heather came up behind the boys. Her arms went around their shoulders.  


"Come on," she said. "This isn't over yet. We have work to do."


	7. Life Boat

It came out in a rush of words. "I'm thinking about killing myself."  


Everyone turned to look at Heather McNamara. Before she'd always been in the background, even with the whole school watching the Heathers. Now that she'd hurtled herself into the limelight, Kurt recognized himself in her. They were mice that had built themselves into giants.  


It'd never been true.  


Duke was the first to break the silence. "What the hell are you doing?" Her lipstick was red, her scrunchie was red.  


She was channeling Heather Chandler.  


But Heather wouldn't ever have reacted that way if McNamara had told her that. Her tired eyes were watching the scene closely, wary.  


Miss Fleming did a mock shocked expression, pretending to care, basking in the attention. She was just as bad as Duke. Nothing she did would ever help anyone. In her breathy voice, she said, "Don't stop, Heather. You're in a safe place." Her claws latched onto McNamara's small arm. "It's just you, and me, and your classmates who love you."  


What a lie. They were all waiting to see her fail.  


Two sides of the same coin, both rising to the occasion and trying to take over, Miss Fleming: "Go on. Share." And Duke: "Get back in line."  


That's all they'd ever been - in line. Even Ram, who at the best of times seemed arrogantly disrespectful to anyone and everyone, was just keeping himself in line of other's expectations. In line meant sticking to your archetype. And Heather hadn't ever been anything but a mouse among giants.  


With the sort of bravery only Heather Chandler could've possessed, Miss Fleming put herself between McNamara and Duke. "Zip it."  


McNamara froze. Her eyes were the size of saucers. She gripped her arm so tightly that Ram could see a bruise forming there. The voice that came out of her mouth was the squeak of a mouse.  


"My sort-of boyfriend killed himself because he was gay for his linebacker."  


Ram glanced over at Kurt. Sadness was carved into the space around his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw.  


"My best friend seemed to have it all together, but she's gone too."  


Heather Chandler gathered handfuls of her silk kimono.  


"Now my stomach's hurting worse and worse. And every morning on the bus I feel my heart beating louder and faster." Her voice grew louder and faster as she spoke and her arms drew out, as if she were reaching for something. But instead of looking larger, she shrunk further into herself. "And I'm like 'Jesus, I'm on the fricking bus again cause all my rides to school are dead'."  


Duke didn't need her heels, she was already a tower, a giant. "What's your damage, Heather? Are you saying Westerberg is not a nice place?"  


"Heather-"  


But Duke talked right over Miss Fleming. She didn't have to listen anymore. "Where's your school spirit? You don't deserve to wear Westerberg school colors."  


"Don't be mean spirited."  


Mean spirit was what drove Duke. With each rude word, she grew two inches. "Why don't you hop into your little lifeboat and catch a gnarly wave over to Remington? In fact, I'll take this." She ripped the scrunchie out of McNamara's hair. "You don't deserve to be a Heather anymore."  


Kurt ran after Heather as she tore out of the room.  


Ram stayed behind. What help could he be now? He was a visitor, an observer. There were no lies to maintain. He had built himself up so much that he didn't know what to do with himself now that it was gone.  


Miss Fleming was buzzing around, telling people to turn off the cameras.  


Though she'd been quiet through the whole exchange, Veronica jumped to her feet. "Is that all you care about? TV cameras?"  


His interest prickled.  


As the school guidance, the well-known hippie that everyone passed off as a nut, Miss Fleming wasn't used to having the full attention on her. Staying in line. "I care about saving lives. Heather Duke ruined a valuable-"  


"Valuable?" Veronica shook her head. "None of us want this spectacle. To be experimented on like guinea pigs. Patronized like bunny rabbits."  


It seemed like she'd been rendered speechless. "I don't patronize bunny rabbits."  


Heather Chandler positioned herself where Veronica would be able to see her. With her hands on her hips, head held high, Ram knew what she was doing. This was Heather's power stance. She was going to make being a bitch motivation for Veronica. "This is their big secret." Her makeup smudged eyes dared someone to challenge her. "The adults are powerless."  


"Heather Mac trusted you," Veronica spit. "You said you'd protect her."  


"They can't help us. Nobody can."  


To anyone that wasn't aware of Heather's presence, it just seemed like Veronica was gearing up for an argument. But Ram could tell that Veronica was fed up. She was angry, and she was pulled in so many directions, with her classmates whispering, with Chandler's dare.  


She snapped. "You're useless."  


Nothing. There was nothing Miss Fleming could reply with. Because Veronica was right - because Heather was right - adults didn't care. They were on the other side of high school. They had already suffered and they had created themselves as giants so they didn't have to give a shit.  


Heather dug her red fingernails into Ram's arm. "We're alone in the ocean." He wasn't sure if she was saying it to him or Veronica.  


"You're all idiots."  


JD hurried forward. He grabbed onto her arm. "Veronica, you should sit. Now."  


Something crackled and burned in Ram. Leftover anger. He rushed toward JD and tried to land a punch. Instead, he sent a gust of wind that barely made the psycho blink.  


Veronica wrenched her arm out of his grip. "No. Let go." She looked down at her arm, hurt. Maybe her killer boyfriend was still a complete surprise to her, even. "Heather Chandler was a monster, just like Kurt and Ram."  


Heather's face sank.  


"They didn't kill themselves." She built herself up. She clenched her fists. Ram clenched his fists, needing to hear what she had to say. "I killed them..."  


JD flinched. Would he run?  


Silence.  


"What do you all think about that?"  


What would they say? And would it even help? Would JD just pull out his gun and shoot up the whole school before anyone could get to the police? Would Veronica even try to stop him?  


That loud, obnoxious, attention seeking laugh that Ram knew so well - Duke still set Ram's teeth on edge. That bitch. He was dead and she was laughing. "God." She kept going until other people joined in. "Some people will say anything if they think it'll make them popular."  


Veronica ran.

...

Heather was holding a bottle of sleeping pills.  


Kurt remembered how when they had been making out she had gotten scared and slapped him. He remembered how she rocked nervously on her heels. He remembered how kindly she held his hand.  


Someone had hurt her, but she still had it in her to care for him.  


Now he would be the one to care for her. He stood behind her as she tried to open the bottle and he caught her hands. It wouldn't stop her forever, but it made her clumsy. Hopefully someone would show up before it was too late.  


She popped the lid off and poured the pills into her mouth.  


He should've been nicer to her, taken her out on real dates and listened about her day. And he should've told her the truth. She would've listened. She would've understood.  


It was too late now. Kurt couldn't save her. Just like with Ram.  


Kurt noticed it the same time as Heather - Veronica coming through the door.  


He stayed until he saw Veronica take away the bottle and make McNamara spit out the pills. Until he knew that he was leaving her in good hands. Breathing a sigh of relief, he went back to Ram and Heather.


	8. Dead Boy Walking

They were on Kurt's street. He wasn't quite sure why Heather had taken them there.  


Her gaze was knowing. "I think..." She tapped a red fingernail on her chin, pretending to hatch an idea, though it was obvious she already had one. "I think you two need some alone time."  


Next to him, he felt Ram bristle, still so damaged. Even in death. "You mean-" He started.  


"I know about you." Her laugh was jingle bells. "Sweetheart, everyone does."  


Ram tried again. "You're okay with it?"  


"Of course. Who did you think it was that made Duke lose her swatch?" She touched his golden waves and this time he didn't stop her. "She loved that thing far too much. And the best thing is, it's not even real. It's a fucking knock off. She only got it because I had one first. That bitch."  


"Why?" Kurt wondered.  


They'd been friends in life, but only in the loosest of terms. The truth was that Heather hadn't ever been all that kind.  


Her smile, it was all bright lips and sorrow. She was ageless, limitless, full of secrets. "Because...Because, because, because." The chuckle she gave was self-deprecating. "Don't think, Kurt, that you were the only person who loved someone they couldn't have. At least you still have a chance."  


It was impossible to guess who Heather was speaking of - the love she couldn't have. She kissed. She fucked. She never dated.  


"I'll come get you when I need you."  


She left a breeze smelling of bubblegum behind her.

...

The house was empty. Not that it would've mattered, no one could see them anymore. But it still felt like sneaking, holding Kurt's hand while they went up the stairs.  


Nervousness was the only true thing that sat in Ram's stomach. Maybe if they could've talked about it beforehand...He should be stoked. They could be together now. Finally. But what if Kurt changed his mind? What if, because it wasn't forbidden anymore, he didn't care about Ram and decided to leave him behind?  


He sat on Kurt's unmade bed. No bounce, no imprint. It was eerie.  


"Make yourself at home," Kurt said, smiling out of the corner of his mouth.  


Not sure what he was supposed to do next, Ram reached for a pillow to fluff it up. There was a magazine underneath. Naked bodies. Men. It shouldn't be surprising.  


"I, uh." Kurt took the magazine from him, tossing it aside.  


Ram looked down at his bare feet. He was never going to wear shoes again. Still half-thinking about his realization, he asked, "Is that what you think about - thought about - when you got off?"  


"I mean, yeah."  


"Oh."  


The bed didn't notice when Kurt sat down, but Ram did. He could feel the electricity between them, even now.  


"That's what I looked at when..." Kurt put his hand on Ram's knee. Gentle, testing. "When I couldn't think about you. When it hurt too much. It never felt the same. It's always better with you. Always."  


Ram had only ever cried in the shower, where he could let himself pretend that it was just water. There was no pretending anymore. The tears that he'd held in all those years were overwhelming. They seeped out of him. He couldn't see anything past them.  


From behind, Kurt hooked an arm around Ram's stomach and pulled him down so he was cradled against his body. Kurt was the smaller of the two, but somehow he held him perfectly.  


Through the sobs that ripped his body, he tried to speak. He had to let Kurt know it wasn't his fault that he was such a mess. "I never wanted to hurt you-"  


Kurt pressed his lips to the back of Ram's neck. "Shh."  


"No. I-"  


"I don't need to hear it. Really. I'm fine."  


Ram turned around so he could face his best friend. Finally face him. For real. "You do. I need to tell you this. I love you. I love you and I hate myself for hurting you. This is all my fault. If I could change this..."  


With the pads of his fingers, Kurt wiped the tears away.  


"I would give anything to let you live again. I would give anything to make you happy."  


Kurt shook his head. His dark hair filled with static from the bedsheets. "No. No. I wouldn't want a life without you in it, full or not. This is enough for me."  


They let their heads bow together. Eyes closed, breath moving from one mouth to another.  


Slowly, Ram's knee worked its way up Kurt's thigh. When it found its target, it rubbed softly, enticingly.  


He opened his eyes. Ram's were open, hopeful. Blue, blue, blue.  


"I want to be with you, for real," he said.  


The last thing Kurt wanted right then was everything to be ruined. He had to be certain this was what Ram wanted and not just something he thought would make Kurt happy. "Are you sure?"  


A nod. "Yeah. Yes."  


Kurt wasn't sure if it would even work. He tried to push his worries away as he pushed himself up to hover over his best friend.  


Best friend - love. The word love propelled him forward.  


Though it was non-existent, it felt like Ram's heart was beating out of his chest. Harder than it ever had in his life when Kurt was tugging off their underwear.  


It was the opposite of how it had been before. Still hungry, starving, but they were savoring each other this time. They were undressed, sitting up, running hands over each other. Fingers explored where they hadn't before. Ram found out that he loved how the bruise of a hickey looked on the tan of Kurt's skin. Kurt found out that he loved the deep, animal, unafraid groan that Ram let go as Kurt slipped one, two fingers inside of him.  


When Ram begged for him, Kurt guided him back onto the bed. He lifted Ram's legs, running his fingers over the light hair there. He glided inside - his favorite place to be.  


And after they were done, they laid back on the bed that used to belong to Kurt, where he used to think of Ram, where Ram used to wish he could be, and let themselves be held by the man they loved.


	9. Seventeen (Reprise)

While Veronica watched the only boy that had loved her give his life for hers, Heather stood behind her, sending warmth her way.  


Kurt and Ram stayed a polite distance away. There would've been a sort of sense of vengeance to the scene if they hadn't already found such peace in each other. Yes, JD had destroyed their lives. It wasn't something that could ever be forgiven. But he was also realizing his faults and giving himself up to let Veronica fix things.  


The fight was over.  


As Veronica made her way back into the school, torn apart if not physically but emotionally, the trio of spirits trailed. Maybe it was a bit egotistical, but in a way they had helped make things right, and they wanted to see how the pieces fell.  


Ripping the red scrunchie out of Duke's hair, Veronica made it so the mice were able to swarm the giants.  


"Yes, baby! Get it," Heather screamed in an excited whisper. "Show that bitch."  


When Veronica pulled her fellow mice over to her, the boys couldn't help but smile. Martha Dunstock, the only girl Ram would never regret kissing, and Heather McNamara a sweet girl that Kurt loved as a friend, would live long happy lives and they would find love.  


Kurt took Ram's hand. Neither tried to pull away. "You coming, Heather?"  


She tossed her curls behind her, putting on a show, even now. Would she ever lose her need to be in control? To be strong? "I think..." There were tears in her voice, but not on her face. "That I need to stay a little longer. Make sure the work we did sticks. And if it doesn't," she joked, "I'll have to steal more of Duke's shit, scare Veronica a bit more. The usual."  


It was then that Ram caught it. The look that Heather cast back at Veronica, it was the same pain filled want that he'd always tried to ignore on Kurt's face. No wonder she wanted to stay. The person she loved wasn't passing on with her.  


"See you," Ram said, not sure if it was true.  


"Some day."  


And they walked on, hand-in-hand, not looking back. They were going to get out of Sherwood Ohio. Finally.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm open to comments.


End file.
